According to one of my professors, graduates go into a mild depression a little after quitting school. This is due to the sudden drop in activity levels of the brain. Neurons (nerve cells) are constantly forging new connections in the brain if learning is taking place. Latin name of a plant? Oh look, you get a new dendrites (nerve tentacles. If you think of a nerve cell like a power plant, the body of the cell is the plant, and all the tentacle dendrite thingies are power lines) going out to different cells.
So now that you have learned this fascinating tidbit of information, you have gained new dendrites in your brain. Multiply that by four hour-long class periods every day for four years. Your brain is going nuts, building connections, growing dendrites like a boss. And then suddenly no more dendrites. Your brain has been super busy for years and then has to close up shop with no warning. Oh, did I mention that all that activity makes your brain happy? Its whole entire purpose is to store information and make sure it's readily accessible so that your life is easier, so of course it's happy to do it. Take away that job and it is less happy.
In brief conclusion, the brain is like a kid in a candy shop when college is going on, and graduation is like telling the kid that just kidding, it's time to go home and chow down on asparagus and brussels sprouts. Both kid and brain are not happy.
So what does brain do? It takes a few months to rest and then realizes that it's not as busy as it was a few months ago and decides to throw a fit in the form of mild depression.
It took me awhile to realize that I was depressed. First I thought that I was just tired and worn out from my job. It helped that my job involves doing the same physically-demanding things every day. And then I became increasingly dissatisfied with my job, which progressed to not wanting to go to work, which progressed to not wanting to do anything, which progressed to not wanting to get out of bed. It was at that point that I concluded I was most likely depressed.
But my brain didn't stop at being depressed. Instead, because it wanted to communicate JUST how vexed with me it was, it decided that depression would lead to social anxiety, which I've struggled with in the past but it hasn't been a problem since I was in my early teens. Apparently a large influx of new hormones made my brain tell itself that not only was it time to be extremely self-conscious about everything, but social interactions were something to be feared and stressed about and life is better lived as a hermit. And that's why I hate puberty.
Anyway, having social anxiety means that not only did I lack motivation to do anything except breathe, but I got nervous at the very thought of interacting with someone. When social anxiety happens, phone calls can't happen, going out shopping is a horrible idea, and purposefully going out and seeing someone puts my stomach in horrible knots that end in nausea because there's an unexplained and constant fear of, well, being social. I don't go so far as having panic attacks, but my chest gets tight and the more I try to convince myself that I'm being silly and talking to another person won't kill me, the more convinced I am that it will, in fact, kill me.
Unfortunately, right before all of this, I started looking for new jobs. Mine wasn't paying enough and though it's a decent job, it's horribly repetitive and I truly do not like repetitive. I wanted something challenging. Then depression hit and I really wanted a new job but had no motivation and then anxiety hit, which is about the same time I received a phone call to come in for an interview.
The preparation for that interview is something that shall not be repeated here for the purpose of shortness, but suffice it to say that it was nerve-wracking and stressful and I hated everything about my life that day.
I did not, however, take the job. The interview itself was stressful enough; the job described involved ten times more stress, which I did not desire in any form or capacity. So I kept my job and kept looking.
Then something happened. First, my work schedule changed. This whole summer, I have been working at the cafeteria, normally early mornings to afternoons with a few early evenings thrown in. The past week though, I've been moved from the cafeteria to the campus grill which means I work nights. To a night owl like me, this is a precious precious thing. I'm at my best at night. I do my best work, my best thinking, my maximum concentration ability is all at night.
Secondly, because my location and schedule changed, my job description changed. At the cafeteria I do one of three jobs and I do that all day. I have been doing that for two years and I know it all so well that it seldom requires thought. It gets very old very quickly. Working at the grill involves scooping ice cream, flipping burgers, making fries, working the cash register, and making drinks, sometimes within minutes of each other. I do something different every day, and I've been learning how to do new things. Unlike the job up at the cafeteria, the grill requires concentration; something I have been desperately missing. Being able to zombie through your job really eats up your morale when you're used to having to think through everything and you like thinking through everything.
Life got significantly better. And then I looked at my paycheck and realized I had gotten a raise. Life got even better.
The best part of all this is that I told my boss nothing about needing a challenge or more money. And now my title makes sense.
No comments:
Post a Comment